


Fucks Like a Bunny

by Delphii



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bloodplay, Branding, Casual Sex, F/F, Fingerfucking, First Time, Hook-Up, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Oral Sex, Orgy, Strap-Ons, Succubi & Incubi, Tentacles, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 09:45:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13761477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphii/pseuds/Delphii
Summary: When you've got almost a decade of promiscuity tucked under your belt, you tend to have a lot of stories to tell. Some of those stories are sweet, and some of them don't necessarily reflect well on your past character. Some happened during high points of your life, some during the lowest of the low. But in the end, they're all a part of your weird, weird history.





	Fucks Like a Bunny

1

She had to stuff a pillow in her mouth to avoid waking the neighbors when she came—that's your biggest accomplishment, you think. As you pant up at her with an aching jaw and a wet chin and nose, she finally takes the lavender pillow off and looks back at you with those big brown doe eyes, mascara smeared everywhere, glossy orange lipgloss all bitten off her lips. It all happened so fast that she's still fully dressed, red skirt hitched around her waist, top around her armpits and her worn, polka-dotted bra flipped up to her collarbone—this is it, you think. You don't need anything else in the world to live but this. Daisy Moon is your end and your beginning, the girl you love-love for real, and you'll follow her and her sweet, sweet voice over the ocean, to Hollywood, to the ends of the world, just so you can make this swelling feeling last _forever_.

 

2

Adrienne's the ex-art major, but you're the one who's good with your fingers. She likes to lie on top of your chest while you finger her, kissing and sucking wherever she can reach, probably because she can't stand the thought of being labeled a pillow princess. It's a little distracting but only until you're consistently hitting that spot that makes her melt on top of you, and then she's trembling, clinging to your shoulders like a koala and whimpering while the piercings in her ear press cold against your cheek. Times like this, you don't think about stuff like the future. You just let your blue-eyed hellraiser hold you close and lose herself, and get ready to hold her again in a few minutes when the tears start.

 

3

Being fed on by a succubus feels eerily similar to being choked out. First there’s the brain-overload, startling your body into fight-or-flight—and then you start slipping without consciously realizing it, sliding into a swimming, silent darkness with only your own rambling thoughts for company. It's a more peaceful, blank vulnerability than you could ever achieve with a regular orgasm, and you can see how this could be— _addicting_.

When you come back to yourself, Lorelei is bent over you and watching you intently, two of her fingers still buried in your soaked folds and her thumb brushing casually over your clit. You shift and feel the wooden back of the chair against your spine, an ache in your calf from the way you've been bracing your foot on the floor.

"Some people say that my kind and sirens are functionally alike," she says, "because in the end, we both drown people. And then we eat them."

You lick your dry lips. "That sounds accurate."

 

4

Your skirt is riding up in the back again. You go to adjust it and instantly Ms. Skinner has caught your hand in hers, swinging it lightly and innocently between the two of you as you walk down the street. A breeze picks up, and sweat prickles on your scalp as you feel the flimsy hem of your skirt flutter around your thighs—this time Skinner freezes you with an stern look, the same one you've seen her use on her students when they try to leave a minute before the bell. The anxiety lasts until she leads you into a secluded alleyway and pushes you up against the brick wall, face-first.

"Show me."

You lift the back of your skirt, and the cool air on your exposed cunt makes you shiver. But more importantly, the end of the rubber plug up your ass is now in full view.

She makes a breathy, satisfied sort of noise, pressing up against your back with her hand groping your cheeks open. "I really should dress you up like this more often..."

You wrinkle your nose. You're pretty sure that once the two of you break up, you'll never wear a skirt again. But for now she's gripping the base of the plug and twisting it deeper inside you, and you're willing to tolerate a bit more wardrobe abuse for the sake of harmless fun.

 

5

Being upside-down feels weird, and it’s even weirder to know that what’s suspending you is a Cthulhu-adjacent tentacle summoned in a dim hotel room. You’re still kind of swaying as Yvonne approaches, the cuff of your jeans getting damp where the tentacle is wrapped around your leg and your T-shirt sliding up—or down, you suppose—to just past your belly button. You put your hands on your hips and grin at the other witch as you come face-to-face.

“Neat trick. Possibly kind of racist to use on an Asian chick, but I’m not complaining.”

“Hmm, you should be. Think of all the horrible, horrible things I could do to you in this position.”

Tentacle sneak up behind you and yank on your arms, immobilizing them against the small of your back. Another wraps around both your ankles, and, just when you’re feeling extra secure, sends you into a stomach-churning drop that ends with your face at the level of Yvonne’s crotch.

Yvonne runs a calloused finger down your exposed midriff, tickling the little hairs around your belly button. Then she hooks her finger over the hem of your shirt and slowly, slowly drags it down, exposing your breasts to the cool air. Your whole torso is covered in goosebumps. You try to breathe economically, but the blood in your head making you dizzy. Yvonne thumbs your nipple with one shockingly cold hand while the other unzips her fly.

“You know what to do with one of these, right?” she says, untucking her cock. There’s actually a tiny bit of worry in her voice—it’s really cute.

“I won’t bite,” you promise.

She tastes like the ocean.

 

6

The princess sucks harder on the bloody wound on your inner thigh, and you muffle your scream by death-gripping her legs and burying your face between them. You feel her weight shift as she shoots upright, keening, the straight razor in her hand clattering to the floor. You're trying to work your magic but she doesn't seem to care; she humps your face and your aching, bloodied tongue as though you're just a particularly animate pillow. She comes with a girlish sort of squeal, digging her nails into your waist hard enough to bruise.

She rolls off of you, aggravating a dozen more open cuts across your torso and thighs, and clambers back up to face you like an overexcited animal. The moonlight makes her blood-smeared face look _terrifying_. A moth flutters by—she snaps it out of the air like a crocodile. You watch her swallow.

"Kiss me," she demands.

You think about it. Then you shrug, and pucker up.

 

7

Your vision's limited because of the mask covering the top half of your face, but you swear someone's licking champagne off your ass. You lost track of Lorelei ages ago but that's not an issue; the owner of the cock that's tickling your uvula is doing a perfectly fine job of entertaining you. It's so nice to have your hair petted like tha—oh, that's a whip. Someone's got a whip. Your elbows almost buckle as lines of fire ignite across your back, but there's another set of arms helping you up, another wet blunt object lined up behind you—oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck, you weren’t exactly ready to be impaled on both ends and your gag reflex is going crazy but fuck that's just the right spot—

 

8

"Hey, just so you know, I'm straight."

You don't stop unbuttoning her top or sucking on her neck as you give a noncommittal, "Mm-hmm."

"No no, I'm serious. I'm not gay, I have a boyfriend."

"You're in a dyke bar," you point out as your hand cups her tit. She arches into your touch almost absentmindedly, skin strangely gray in the bathroom lights.

"Yeah, I know, because I was like, questioning. But like, now I know for sure."

You pause with a hand on the zipper of her jeans. The side of your head is pounding, and you're trying not to grimace too noticeably. "So, is this still on, or...?"

"What? Oh yeah, definitely, I just needed you to know—"

You yank both her pants and underwear down as you sink to your knees—pesky little G-string—and bury your face in her muff.

 

9

...Ah, fuck, you blacked out again. Your cheek feels like more drool than skin now, and you're having trouble regaining motor control of your fingers—and if whoever's behind you would stop fucking drilling your ass for two seconds, you might be able to deal with this.

Jamie—Jenny? Janey?—collapses onto your back, knocking the breath out of you and slathering you in cold, clammy sweat. She's kind of still... wriggling on top of you, and you can barely register the movement on your skin.

"Fuck, you're intense," she says, nuzzling the scar across your neck and shoulder. "I fucking _love_ it."

Your eyelids are already drooping again. When's your next dose? In an hour? Sooner? Maybe you already missed it, and he's just being quiet to mess with you—

_Who says I'm being quiet?_

Your eyes fly open.

Jenny-Janey-Jamie is still rubber-balls-deep in your ass and completely oblivious. You feel her shift to the side, see a flicker of orange light. A long exhale, and then the air around you is wreathed in murky gray. It's suffocating.

"Hey," you croak.

"Huh?"

"Hey, you holding a cigarette?"

"Yeah."

"Put it out on me."

A pause. You expect her to ask for clarification, but instead your hip explodes with electric agony—all of your muscles contract and you don't realize you're screaming until your face and throat ache, but you're awake, you're awake you're awake you're awake and _fuck you cunt you don't get to fuck with me tonight you slimy piece of shit_ —Janey-Jamie-Jenny is groaning in your ear, thrusting erratically, telling you how hot that was, how hot _you_ are, oh god fuck yeah how she's never met anyone like you—it occurs to you that she may be on more drugs than you initially realized. But the pain of the burn is transitioning into a sort of sticky euphoria, and one more scar is worth winning back your mind for another night.

 

10

"Are you holding back on me?"

"Huh?" you pant, still grinding slowly up and down on Lilith's fingers. You're trying not to grip her shoulders too tightly because you know she doesn't like that, but it's hard to get leverage otherwise while your back is on the creaky mattress.

"You look out of it." Lilith's heart-shaped face is twisted in concern. Her amber eyes are so deep you could fall right into them. "And we don't usually go this slow. Something bothering you?"

"N-no, I'm totally into it, I swear. Sorry, sometimes my sex-brain's going a million different places at once."

"Maybe it wants to go back to the rough stuff." The tips of her fangs peek out over her bottom lip. She presses and curls inside you, inviting.

You raise an eyebrow at her and sink down to take all three of her fingers to the hilt, smearing wetness onto her palm. "What, I can't be vanilla even once without being accused of faking it?"

She shrugs with a mischievous little smile, making some of her curls tumble down around your face. "Just making a suggestion. But if you want to keep going slow, I'm down with that too."

"Sweet." You strain forward to give her a little peck between the eyes, then realize your mistake when her shoulders stiffen under your hands. But she relaxes again almost instantly, and it's not worth bringing up. "We can stay in this position for a few more minutes, and then I'll eat you out again?"

"Mm-hmm. I want to ride your face."

"Deal."

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of like... a fanfiction of an original book series I'm working on. The here-unnamed protagonist is a lesbian witch named Harrietta Lee, and this was a sort of character-building exercise I did in between bigger projects, partially just to get something finished, but I'm pretty happy with it. If you're interested in seeing more of Harrietta, I'm @delphiiwrites on tumblr and @ahn_writing on twitter, come check out some more writing and some art!


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